Give it Time - A Johnlock Amnesia fic
by mycroft-stole-my-cake
Summary: After a near fatal accident on a case, John Watson finds himself embedded in darkness. The only things he can hear are the constant beeping and the voice, distant yet reassuring. On awaking from a coma John finds himself in a whole new world, full of people who he used to know and places he used to love. Including the worlds only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes.


Pain was the first thing he registered, the pain was everywhere. It was surrounding him and swallowing him, engulfing him in a wave of searing white heat. It was a pain that made him feel the need to move around and scream, but he couldn't do that, he didn't know how or if it was even possible. So instead he thought about how it was dark and the dark was soothing, but it made him feel the need to see something that wasn't there. What that thing was he didn't know. But he could be content with the empty darkness for now, it contrasted against the white pain that he felt, dampened it almost, he was grateful for that. But who was _he_, he wondered, maybe he was just another part of the darkness that he was surrounded by. But he could see the dark and he could feel the pain and he could think, he was thinking right now. Seeing meant eyes, pain meant he had a body to feel pain from and thinking meant he had a brain, he was a Person. Now he thought about it he could feel that the pain was coming from his chest and his head and he could feel the sensation of his chest rising and falling. If he was breathing was he alive? He must be conscious to some degree if he could think and feel, maybe he was dreaming or maybe this was his world and he was awake. It wasn't so bad but right at the back of his mind he had a blurred image of something else, something a lot brighter. But every time he tried to grab onto it, it moved further and further away. It was tiring and he didn't have the energy to try, thinking was making his head hurt more.

He presumed he had lost consciousness at some point because he had stopped thinking and now he was thinking again. Only this time it was a lot less effort and the pain seemed to have died down a bit. He could hear things too, things that weren't his own thoughts, there was a constant beeping coming from somewhere in the dark. It was faint, it sounded far away, but he didn't know how to reach it. Maybe the beeping could lead him to the brighter place? But did he want to go there? Maybe it didn't even exist and he was just imagining things, it was nice to think that it was real though. He could imagine getting very bored of the dark.

"John"

A voice, faint but there, was there someone else in the dark with him? He tried to speak, to let the voice know that he was there, that he could hear it, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was the beeping and the sound of his own thoughts. He was starting to think that maybe he was hearing things until he heard it again, it sounded slightly closer this time.

"John it's me"

John, was that his name? The voice was addressing him, but where was the person that the voice belonged to? The voice was talking to him like he should know who it was. But he didn't, John had never heard the voice before, the only voice that he'd ever heard was his own one in his head. But the voice knew his name, his name was John. Did the voice have a name? John tried to remember if he had heard the voice before, but all he remembered was waking up to the dark and the pain. He felt as if he should know who the voice belonged to, he felt like there was something massive he needed to remember. Maybe it had something to do with the blurred image of a brighter place in the back of his mind? He wished he could grab hold of it long enough to picture it properly, maybe then he would be able to remember who the voice belonged to.

Breaking from his thoughts John realised the voice had started speaking again and so he listened and tried to focus on the voice and not the beeping, he was finding it hard to filter the sounds. Maybe with practise it would become easier.

"-been a week now, and you haven't made any progress. I guess I shouldn't be rushing you, you have to do this in your own time. But wake up John, please."

Wake up? He was awake, he wasn't asleep and he couldn't be dreaming if he could hear the voice. It was so confusing, John just wanted to be able to see the face that the voice belonged to. He was pleading the voice to say its name but of course he knew it was hopeless, the voice couldn't hear him no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, please wake up. You know me, you know how stupid this is making me feel, I don't deal very well with sentiment."

The voice said the last word with an audible degree of disgust, it was clear that long sentimental speeches were not the voices fortѐ. But apparently John should have known that and he didn't, he didn't know anything about the voice, he wanted to desperately. Why had he forgotten? He'd forgotten his name, he'd forgotten everything about himself and about the voice. Were there other people like the voice and himself? He hoped so, if the voice left him for any reason John didn't think he would be able to stand the loneliness. The dark may have been soothing but it was empty and if he only had his thoughts for company John was sure he would go mad. Or maybe he already was mad, that was a scary thought. But it was entirely feasible, maybe that was why he couldn't remember anything, maybe that was why he could only see black and why he could hear a constant beeping in the back of his mind. Oh god, the voice had said he hadn't made any progress, was that progress back towards sanity? He didn't feel like he was mad, he just felt like he was half of a puzzle and he didn't know what the other half was.

"I don't know if you can hear me… I hope you can, the Nurses said it was possible that you could."

John could hear him, why did the voice think he couldn't?

The voice chuckled, there was a slight hint of sadness under the laugh which you would only have caught if you had been listening really carefully. And John was, he was grasping onto that voice like it was a lifeline, in a way it was. It was his only connection to the world he must have come from before the dark. The voice took a deep breath and continued as though it had had to restrain itself from saying something completely different.

"I don't think you'd be able to take your eyes of one of the nurses here John, I think she's your type. Coincidently her name is Harriet. Blonde, your height, blue eyes and fairly decent bodily proportions. She's single, lives on her own on North Gower Street and has a Long Nosed Pug named Gladstone."

John laughed inwardly at this, it sounded more like the voice had been examining her rather than checking her out, why it was a coincidence that her name was Harriet he didn't know. Again John felt like it was something he really should have remembered. He was curious to know how the voice knew so much about her, he must have been chatting her up. He must be quite eager to have got all of that out of a nurse within a week. "Why tell me about her then?" He thought to himself.

With a jolt John realised that if the voice was with another Person then they were together, in a place he wasn't. But he could hear the voice he was half way there, all he needed to do was open his eyes, if he opened his eyes he'd be in the bright place. It was such a simple task, why couldn't he do it? How about speaking? He asked himself, just open your mouth and say what you're thinking. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't do it, it felt like he was trying to control someone else's body. It was exhausting, mentally and physically. He feebly attempted to stay awake but fell asleep to the sound of the voice telling him how all of the nurses were boring and the beeping, constant and reassuring.

It came so suddenly it scared him, all John could hear was the beeping getting louder and louder faster and faster, it was pounding into his skull and it was all he could think about. It was so hard to breath and he didn't know how to, all he wanted to do was open his mouth to get more air into his lungs but he couldn't, it might have well been sewn shut. John just took the pain and tried to focus on the voice which he hoped and prayed hadn't left him. He focused on its deep smooth sound and how it was the only thing that kept him tied to the place he tried so hard to reach. He thought about how he had to choke out the word sentiment and how he had a crush on the Nurse called Harriet. The beeping was getting further and further away and John could feel himself falling asleep. Or was he dying? He felt like he was dying, he was in a lot of pain. The beeping had turned into one long sound and it was getting further and further away. He realised that he couldn't even feel the pain anymore. He wouldn't mind staying like that for a while, everything was quiet.

He felt numb.

"Dying" He thought "Definitely dying"

Light, he could see light and it was beautiful and bright and John thought that if that was where he was going to go then he really didn't mind dying. He just wanted to be able to see something, anything, the dark had changed from comforting to depressing and lonely in a mere few days.

And then there was pain again, horrible electric pain which sent a shock throughout his whole body, but the light was still there, and coming ever closer. Another burst of pain, stronger this time and the light was receding. John tried to will it back but another burst of pain distracted him and the light was gone, the beeping had separated into a slow and steady pace and he could hear the voice again. The light had disappeared as if it was never there and John knew he should feel grateful that he wasn't dead but he missed the light already.

There was something on his hand, he could feel it, which was an improvement, and it felt good to have confirmation that he did in fact have a body. The thing was wrapped around his hand, it was warm and squeezing his hand hard.

The voices hand it was it definitely was, what else could it be? John's heart leapt at the feel and heat rushed throughout his body, he wasn't hearing things. It was there, the voice was there, he wasn't mad and he was one step closer to reaching the bright place, he could feel and he could hear. All he needed to be able to do now was move and see. His hand, if he moved his hand the voice would know, it wasn't hard and maybe if he did that he would be able to move everything else, including his eyes.

But then he heard something, it was the voice but it wasn't speaking, it was crying. John froze, he didn't know what to do, he couldn't comfort but he had to do something.

"Hand" he thought determinedly "You move, even if you never move again I need you to move now"

The fact that the voice was crying made John feel inexplicably sad, he didn't know why, he'd never even see its face before. But he had become dangerously attached to the voice, it was what he clung onto and he just wanted to be able to tell him that, the only way he could do that was by squeezing his hand back. John could feel the tiredness creeping up on him but he pushed that to the back of his mind, he had to do this, he needed to beat the darkness.

John focused on the feeling of the voices hand in his own and tried to follow that feeling with his mind. He could feel his wrist, he could feel the palm of his hand and he could feel his fingers, all he needed to do was move them.

"Focus John" He told himself "Focus"

The voice let out another heaving sob and John felt a pang in his stomach, he wanted to cry it was so frustrating not being able to do something that was so simple. He wanted to help, he wanted to be able to comfort and tell the voice he was okay, but he could do nothing

"Move" He told himself "For Christ sake move"

But he was so tired and the sobs were getting quieter, his chest was throbbing so much that it felt like it was going to implode and his head was pounding. Why was he in pain? Why was he dying?

John had so many questions, and so little answers, and no matter how hard he tried to remember he couldn't. His head swam as a wave of nausea flew over him, making his stomach churn and his mouth taste foul. John passed out without hearing anything more.


End file.
